Popsy came round when I was working on my car, I asked if she wanted a rid
Taking Popsy for a ride
It was ages ago, It was a lovely English summers afternoon and I was working on my car in father’s old coach house, the year after the general strike, 1927.
I had been away at Oxford doing my degree and had just passed the civil service exam so was ready to join the foreign office, which was as father intended, rather than taking up motor car racing as I rather preferred.
Anyway quite suddenly Popsy whom I had not seen for absolutely ages knocked on the door and walked in.
“Hello Bertie, still playing the grease monkey I see,” she chuckled.
“Yes, bit of bother with a Carbertooter,” I explained, “Rich one moment, weak the next.”
“I’m sure it is,” she said, “Like Pater rich one moment, stony the next.”
“Anyway old thing,” I explained, “Need to do a test run before it rains, don’t want to come I suppose?”
I knew she wouldn’t, she tended to hang around, she was a lot younger than I maybe eighteen to my twenty two, but she was a plucky little thing, bit of a tomboy and her family lived just up the road from us and her father was in the Rotary club with my father so I indulged her.
“I’m getting married,” she announced.
“Good lord!”I exclaimed, “I thought you were still at school.”
“No Bertie,” she insisted, “ I finished ages ago and Pater can’t afford the fees so he’s marrying me off to Bertie Burford.”
“Bertie Burford, Popsy Burford,” I mused, “Well you’ll make a lovely couple,” I surmised, “Bertie certainly has an eye for the ladies.”
The big fat idle lump, I thought, he’s twice the size of her.
“Has he had lots of lady friends?” Popsy asked.
“Had lots of ladies yes,” I agreed, “Three in one weekend on occasions, lord knows what they see in him, his old man’s estate probably.”
“So why does he want me to marry Bertie?” she asked.
“Probably doesn’t,” I ventured, “ I expect your father threatened him with a shot gun, how should I know.”
“Granny says he want’s a virin so he can be sure his children are his,” Popsy suggested.
“Wise old birds Grannies,” I said as I clipped the bonnet down on the old Riley, “Sure you won’t join me?”
“No I really don’t need a face full of dirt and bugs,” she explained.
“Suit yourself,” I agreed, “Was there anything else?”
“Do you think Bertie loves me?” she asked.
“With the tiny bit of love he doesn’t have for himself,” I observed, “You’re only marrying for money so where does love come in to it?”
“You’re so cold and calculating,” Popsy observed.
“I’m just older than you,” I explained, “It’s about practcalities, not love, if I were a romantic I would be a racing driver, but I’m not so I’m joining the civil service, and you need a husband who can provide for you and your children.”
“You most definitely are not a romantic,” Popsy observed.
“No,” I agreed, “So I join the civil service and you marry Bertie, two pawns in the ocean of life.”
“Shouldn’t that be Prawns?” she suggested.
“Probably,” I agreed.
“Doesn’t Bertie usually go for girls with big boobies?” Popsy asked.
“Yes, I suppose so,” I agreed, “Tarty pieces all tits and lipstick.”
“I thought so,” she agreed, “So why does he want to marry me?”
“I suggest you ask him,” I suggested, “Or you could just lie back and think of England.”
“But what if he doesn’t like me?” Popsy asked, “If he can’t, you know, consummate?”
“Bertie, good god he could do it with Methusalahs grannie,” I assured her, “Have no fear.”
“But my boobies are tiny,” Popsy explained. I looked, her dress had a deep V in the front exposng much of her breasts, so much so that I could see her brassiere. and it was so short it left very little to the imagination. Her breasts weren’t exactly huge, then again she was quite slender so a couple of huge udders would have looked ridiculous on her.
“But beautifully formed,” I agreed.
“That’s because I have this padded brassiere,” she insisted and she popped her boobies out of its cups, “See?”
I could see, “They’re lovely,” I assured her.
“You’re just saying that,” she said, “You feel sorry for me.”
“No!” I insisted, “They are lovely, now put them away.”
“Am I making you uncomfortable?” Popsy asked.
“A bit,” I admitted.
“Have I given you a stiffy?” she asked.
“A bit,” I admitted.
“Do you want to fuck me?” she asked.
“God no, you’re marrying Bertie,” I countered.
“God you do, that bulge in your trousers!” she observed, “It’s bent double, Geoffrey, you’ll do your self an injury, drop your trousers now.”
“Don’t be silly,” I insisted and I quickly rearranged myself to look more decent.
“You’ll go blind playing with yourself like that,” Popsy laughed.
“It’s your fault you flashed your boobies at me,” I protested.
“Do I turn you on|?” she asked.
“Of course you do,” I replied.
“I’m not wearing any pants,” Popsy whispered, “Do you want to stick it in me?”
“Yes,” I said, “But we mustn’t.”
“Don’t be silly,” she insisted and she wrenched my trousers and under pants down.
“Popsy,” I explained, “You don’t have a clue what to do next do you?”
“No,” she admitted, “I rather hoped you did.”
“Kiss me, on the lips,” I ordered, and as our lips entwined my thumb sought her vagina and as she moaned softly I drove my thumb and then several fingers through her hymen and into her love tunnel.
I sat on a straw bale and she lowered herself onto me.
She shuddered as my penis nuzzled her soft pouting pussy lips and she winced as I started to ease inside her.
“Oh gosh,” she gasped, “I didn’t expect this," she said, “It hurts.”
“Just relax,” I said quietly, “Did you plan this,” I asked.
She nodded, “Yes, you’ll have to marry me now,” she explained.
“You lovey silly girl,” I chided as |I began the long climb to orgasm and ejaculation, “Why would you want to marry me for heaven’s sake?”.
“I don’t want to marry Bertie, I want to marry someone else,” she said
“Does it still hurt?” I asked.
“Uh, no, it feels really nice,” she admitted, “Oh gosh I can’t believe we’re actually doing it!”.
“Nor can I,” I admitted, “I should have been half way to Godalming in the Riley not half way to heaven inside you!”
“Oh Geoffrey how sweet,” she said and heaven came as I shot my load deep inside her.
“Crikey, I didn’t think it was like that,” Popsy exclaimed, “You’ll have to marry me now.”
“I suppose so,” I agreed as I wiped my cock on a clean rag,” and you my darling may now accompany me on my test drive as my official fiance and co driver.”
“Do I have to?” she asked, “We don’t have to get married, not if I’m not preggers.”
“No, well you choose, I’ll go to Godalming and if she runs well we’ll have another go at getting you preggers.”
“Do you know I think I prefer Bertie.” she sighed.
“Perhaps,” I agreed, “Give the primer a pump and I’ll give her a swing on the starting handle,”
Popsy pushed the brass primer handle just once, I swung the handle and the Riley burst into life, I grabbed the hand throttle to set a nice even tick over. “Coming?” I asked.
She shook her head, “Be careful,” she said.
I set off, the motor purred and soon I was hurtling along at nearly sixty five., elated I turned around and headed back.
Poppy was still there, “Goes like the wind," I exclaimed, “You sure you don’t want a ride.”
“Perhaps, but not in the car,” she said.
“What in then?” I asked.
“In me Geoffrey,” she admitted,” I want you to stick it in me again,”
“Do you know I was thinking exactly the same thing!” I agreed. So we did. several times.